


Luna's Home

by AsMuchAsIWish



Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Mutant Powers, Non-Canonical Violence, Omegaverse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Possessive Loki (Marvel), Protective Bad Guys, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, References to Depression, Regeneration, Romantic Soulmates, Scents & Smells, Sirens, Soulmates, animal speaker, inventions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsMuchAsIWish/pseuds/AsMuchAsIWish
Summary: A year after the death of her caregiver, Sarah, Lunalily Claremont decides against staying in West Virginia with her therapist (and close friend). Taking the money her biological father left her upon his sudden death, along with the inheritance she received from from Sarah, she buys an abandoned "farmhouse" near the border of Pennsylvania and New York.In an effort to put her life together and decide what to do with it, Lunalily finds friends in the most unlikely of places -- one showing up in the middle of the night, three falling from the sky (though only one fell through her ceiling), another following her in a store, and others playing "Follow the Leader" in the oddest of ways. Many of those new friends are just that: friends. But a few of them just turn out to be unexpected soulmates that she couldn't help but fall in love with.But with the threat of curious and worried Avengers to a Mad Titan intent on killing the men she loves the most, Lunalily must decide on who to protect: them or herself.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Wade Wilson/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	1. The Farmhouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeanieBaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135464) by [BeanieBaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/pseuds/BeanieBaby). 



> This is my gift to BeanieBaby because I loved Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain so FREAKING MUCH!!!!
> 
> If she does not want this story up, of course I will take it down. It is similar to hers only in the way that "A" bought a farmhouse, Villains showed up, "A" took care of them, and there was a happy ending. I am adding in soulmates and A/B/O dynamics because I love omegaverse bullshit WAYYYYY too much. 
> 
> If anyone has anything they would like to see -- like dialogue or events -- let me know in the comments.
> 
> Once again: if BeanieBaby does not want this up, I will take it down. I didn't technically ask her... ://

“I’m proud of you, Ilse,” Luna Bennett, my therapist, said as she watched the movers pack in the last of my items in the U-Haul. “It takes a lot of courage to move so far away from your home.” I turned to the woman I had grown close to, a small smile on my face.

“Thank you, Doc,” I murmured, giving her an exasperated look. “And it’s Lunalily now. Lunalily Gaia Claremont.” The older Gamma nodded, tears filling her eyes and her smile growing. Sniffling, she opened her arms and I walked into them, wrapping her up in my arms.

“You are so brave, so strong,” she whispered into my hair as she rubbed my back. “I’m so proud of you. Lily and Ruth would be bawling their eyes out, by now.” I let out a shaky laugh, nodding against her shoulder.

“Yeah, I bet they would.” Lily was my mother -- Liliana Gaia Claremont-Rockwell -- and Ruth was the eighty-year-old woman I lost just under a year ago. Luna was a close friend of Ruth’s, and became my therapist when Ruth caught me vigorously slitting my wrists a month after living with her. I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart as I heard the back door to the U-Haul slam shut. “I gotta go, Doc.” She nodded and hugged me tighter for a few more seconds before she let go, her eyes still wet and a flush on her cheeks. 

“Miss Claremont,” a gruff voice called out. It was the older of the three movers, holding a key out to me along with papers. He was a nice older Gamma -- probably the same age as the Doc (45) -- with a full beard, kind brown eyes surrounded with laugh lines, and a husky body shape that hid his muscles. “This is the key to the lock on the back of the truck, and these forms are your receipts. You have the U-Haul for a month, so when you are done with it, just drop it off at any U-Haul station and give the keys to the main man. If you are unable to drop it off, give this number a call, and someone will be sent out to come grab it -- with a small fee, of course.” I nodded and grabbed the key and papers. 

“Thank you, Mr. Gibson. Your help is very much appreciated.” He nodded and went back to the two other men towards a van they had brought to Ruth’s house. I took in a deep breath, looking over the small, one floor, two-bedroom house with a sense of nostalgia creeping up and over me. “Her husband built this house in the fifties, you know. Their children grew up in this house; they had  _ parties  _ at this house.” I pursed my lips and lowered my voice. “ _ Died _ in this house.” Doc put a hand on my shoulder in silent comfort. I took in a deep and shaky breath. “She would be upset that I’m selling her house; just like her kids.” Doctor Bennett snorted. 

“Her children haven’t bothered to visit her in well over fifty years.” The Doc’s voice was taut, a scowl overtaking her smooth and gentle features. “They got married and had their own children  _ far away  _ from little ol’ West Virginia. The first time she saw her grandchildren was at the funeral, for God’s sake, and they didn’t know who she was!” I pursed my lips, remembering the story Ruth had told me about the funeral. Her three daughters and their husbands showed up with their gaggle of children in tow, snobby attitudes glistening in the spotlight.

_ “They moved to California as soon as they could,”  _ Ruth would say when she was relaying the story to me over the four years I lived with her.  _ “They hated that I kept them close. We didn’t let them out for parties, or hang out at diners with their friends. They wanted to smoke all that garbage, and protest wars.”  _ Ruth would scoff at that point in the story, shaking her head. _ “I’ll admit, I kept them from living until they turned twenty, but it was for their safety. West Virginia isn’t good for little girls with big dreams -- I would know.”  _ At this point, she would grow nostalgic and become quiet until she was ready to speak once again.  _ “They found rich husbands -- doctor, lawyer, and an “aspiring” entrepreneur -- and got married. I didn’t know until they sent a letter about a child being born to the eldest. I went to visit and they  _ **_shooed_ ** _ me away. As if I wasn’t their mother. And then, they come to the funeral, acting as if they were  _ **_sad_ ** _. I returned the favor of kicking them out and took them out of my will. Their father left everything to me, knowing I would divy it up, but I couldn’t have been more disappointed in them.”  _ Her eyes would become distant and have a sad yet bitter forlornness that was never out of place in this story.  _ “They tried to put me in a home for the old fogies. Dear Luna had to write to the director of that terrible place just to stop sending me pamphlets!”  _

“-lily, are you okay?” I shook myself out of my daze, turning to the concerned doctor with a small smile and nod.

“Yeah, sorry, Doc. I got...lost in memories.” I put my hands in the pockets of my grey oversized hoodie. “Remember their faces when they showed up for the will reading?” Luna snorted, an evil smile only a true Psychiatrist could give. 

Ruth’s lawyer, Richard Campbell, was a strict older gentleman with no filter, and was well-known in our medium-sized town. They went to the same church together, and he said I was a “much better daughter than the others.” At the time, Ruth had gone silent for a bit before she agreed and we went to sit. He had sent letters out to her children, due to them being named in the will, and they showed up two weeks later. The three women completely ignored me and Luna, and sneered at Nora, Luna's longtime girlfriend that had yelled at them at John’s funeral. Richard simply stated that the only reason they were here was due to Ruth’s individual letters to them  _ (which he had read) _ . He then went on to state that everything Ruth had  _ (except a small fraction that went to Luna) _ went to me.

A screaming match ensued, and the three old women had to be physically removed from the office. The house and everything inside it, John and Ruth’s bank accounts, and stock in Stark Industries  _ (bought in 1950 after the house was built and S.I. was starting to gain traction) _ were transferred to my accounts within three days. 

“They deserved it,” a new voice said. We both turned around, watching as Nora walked out of the house with only a backpack in her hands. She grinned at me, handing the backpack to me. “Don’t forget this, darlin’.” I laughed, taking it from her with a smile.

“Thanks, Nora.” The Beta nodded and wrapped an arm around Luna’s shoulder, a sad look exchanged between the two of them. They were true soulmates. “Well, it’s time for me to go.” Their eyes grew misty and I hugged Luna again before moving to Nora. “You guys have helped me so many times over the years. I can never thank you enough.” I pulled back, giving the best smile I could manage.

“Make sure to call us when you reach the farmhouse,” Doc said shakily, wiping at her eyes, “and take lots of pictures when the house is finished.” I nodded, beginning to walk towards the U-Haul driver’s seat. 

“Fall in love while you’re there!” Nora called out, making me stumble and the two older women laugh. I turned to glare at the Beta, my face bright red with embarrassment. “I’m  _ somewhat  _ kidding, kid.” I scoffed and shook my head, climbing up into the seat that was much farther off the ground than I anticipated. “We’ll call before we visit,  _ just in case _ !” I snorted in laughter and turned on the truck, rolling down the window. 

“I’ll call you when I get there!” I called out the window, waving at the only people I loved. “Goodbye! Be safe!” They nodded and waved as I began pulling out of the driveway and down the road. 

Soon, I was on the freeway with my STARKPhone spouting directions and my heart as heavy as the day I moved in with Ruth.

~+~+~+~+~+~

The farmhouse wasn’t really a farmhouse. It was situated in Pennsylvania, near the border between the state and New York, and took a little over twelve hours to get there. It was a three-story Queen Anne Victorian Mansion that had ten bedrooms, five full-baths, two living rooms, and one kitchen. But for all intents and purposes, it was abandoned in 1920 on a plot of land that had a dull red barn standing idly on it. The land was similar to an empty field and was surrounded with dense forest life. The real-estate agent got what the asking price was, and didn’t bother to talk to me after sending me the key in the mail.

I arrived in the middle of the night, driving on the dirt road that had overgrown shrubs beside it, and decided to camp out in my U-Haul until the morning. 

The following morning, I inspected the house and called Doc. The roof was deteriorating, the walls needed to be stabilized, the floor was creaking  _ (breaking under my weight on the second floor and resulting in a graze on my left leg) _ , the kitchen appliances were old and useless, and so much more was wrong with the house. A part of my mind insisted that it would be better to level it and start from scratch. But the inventive part of my brain said ‘no’ and blueprints popped into my mind.

_ My mother used to sing a song to me when I was a child. A song about a woman sitting in a tower, so overcome with grief that she couldn’t smile. She couldn’t laugh, or live a life she wanted. She was stuck in that tower and, when she tried to tell a man about her pain, he thought she was evil and burned the tower down with her inside it. It was a dark song, but it never frightened me as much as it did my mother. She would cry as she sang it and whisper to me about real monsters being closer to us than we think. She would whisper about the  _ **_powers_ ** _ I showed her, saying I had to hide them from everyone before the monsters took me away. _

_ Father didn’t like it when she sang those songs.  _

_ And then she died. _

The people at the Mom-and-Pop carpenter stores were kind, and showed me the best wood to have as the floor. My  _ budget  _ was unlimited, but my  _ time  _ was. After I left the shop, I began working on the floorboards at the house, pulling out my own set of tools from the back of the truck. The floorboards were easy to pull up, but there was mold and termites underneath them. With quick words, I was able to convince the termites to leave the floorboards and start maneuvering myself around the floor to create a stable ground.

The first week (and a half) was tough, getting the floor situated. My body only needed five hours of sleep before it was ready to move, so the renovations were moving along quickly. I had my wifi motom in the U-Haul, and ordered floor heaters, the newest RAM Truck, and other items the blueprints in my mind suggested. In the meantime, I had begun breaking down walls and cleaning out furniture left behind, ordering a bed for my room, since the floor was repaired. Some of the furniture I liked and dropped off at a small refurbishing shop in the nearest town. 

My forest green RAM Truck was four doors and had black leather seats. It smelled new and, when the men dropped it off, it was cleaner than anything in a three mile radius. Unfortunately, due to everything I hauled around, it got dirty quickly. 

When my other packages arrived within the next few days, I installed them myself. The men that dropped them off kept trying to help me, offering advice I didn’t need or want, though they left once they realized I didn’t want them there. That night, I fell asleep earlier than usual, waking up at three instead of six, like usual. I laid in bed, listening to the crickets chirp and a few owls give out muffled cries, until they suddenly stopped. Frowning, I sat up in my King-Sized bed, and strained my ears. The crickets had become silent and the flapping wings of owls told me they were leaving the immediate area. I got out of the comfy bed and slowly walked to the window. Opening the dusty old curtains slightly, I peered down into the dark.

_ There’s a man down there. _ I flinched back for a second, unsure of why that man would be in my backyard.  _ Maybe he’s lost? _ I watched the dark figure stared at the house. 

The clouds that had been covering the moonlight slowly began to move and I held my breath as the man came slightly more into focus. This time, however, I couldn’t stop my gasp -- his arm was glinting in the moonlight; a  _ familiar  _ looking metal arm. My flash of movement startled him out of his daze, his head snapping up to the window. I stood still, trying not to breathe and cause any form of movement. He moved his other hand to his waist  _ (most likely reaching for a weapon) _ and took a step forward, but he stumbled and fell to his knees. 

_ Was he hurt? Was he going to kill me? Rape me? _ Slowly, I stepped back from the window and moved to the corner of my room, hunkering down and waiting to hear the tell-tale sound of him breaking into my home. I strained my ears for anything that would prove my worries, but as the early morning progressed and the light slowly began to filter into my room, I knew the man was long gone. Slowly, I made my way down the grand staircase and to the backdoor. 

Nothing was broken and no footprints were left behind. 

_ Did he know who I was? _ I wondered later on in the day as I finished putting the wooden flooring in the kitchen. The plumbing and electrical men had come around mid-morning, so I now had freshly running water, a new and improved water heater, and electricity running throughout the expanse of the house. The first thing I did after they left was take a hot shower before I began putting the wooden flooring in the kitchen.  _ If he did, how did he find me? Did he always know where I was after that night?  _ I sighed and wiped the sweat away from my forehead with the sleeve of my black hoodie. It was cold out, the sky overcast and gloomy, and I had the windows open for a slight breeze, but I was dying of heat-stroke in my hoodie and sweats.

_ “Leaves from the vine,” _ I sang to myself as I patted the wooden flooring, my body filling with the sense of power as the words flowed through my lips.  _ “Falling so slow, like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam.”  _ The air in the room started to shift and swirl, a cool draft sliding against my brow and a light green glow enveloping my body.  _ “Little Soldier Boy, comes marching home. Brave Soldier Boy, comes marching home.”  _ I repeated the song as I stood up, grabbing my list off of the counter behind me, marking the last item off of the list.

Suddenly, I was up against the cold wall, the sound of cracking hitting my ears as a startling cold hand wrapped tightly around my windpipe. I let out a strangled gasp of startelement and looked up, eyes widening. _ So he  _ **_did_ ** _ remember me _ . I didn’t struggle as he held me to the wall, the man allowing me to run my eyes over him in assessment.

The man from the night before was standing before me, his eyes a  _ striking Alpha gold  _ with black smudges of makeup  _ (or maybe it was paint?) _ around them. He wore a mask over his nose and mouth, as if he was trying to hide what he looked like, and his hair was a dark brown that reached three inches above his shoulders. It was dirty and unkempt, tangles ratting it up so that it looked shorter than it actually was. He was wearing a tactical vest of leather with too many straps to count, but the Omega side of my brain took note of his straining muscles. His left arm’s sleeve was cut off, showing off his long metal arm with whirring plates. Coincidentally, it was that arm that was squeezing my throat with just enough pressure to keep my attention.

A part of my oxygen-deprived brain was thankful that he had come to finish the job he left undone all those years ago. The other part was saddened. I  _ just  _ put myself back together after everything that happened in my life, and  _ now  _ he comes back?  _ Why couldn’t he have come back when I was a runaway sixteen year old?  _ I looked into his eyes, watching as emotions passed through them -- confusion, anger, impassiveness -- and waited for him to speak.

**“Who,”** he began in a deep growl, his voice gruff and grating, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time,  **“who are you? Why do I know you?”** I opened my mouth to talk, but his hold on my throat wouldn’t allow it. He squeezed his metal hand and I felt my throat shrink under the pressure.  **“Why do you look so familiar to me? Who are you?”** I closed my mouth and leaned my head back on the wall, closing my eyes as I waited for him to kill me. 

_ It wouldn’t work, _ a voice supplied in my head,  _ but he would think I was dead and leave, wouldn’t he?  _ All of a sudden, his hand released some of the pressure and I was able to take in a deep breath, my throat aching but beginning to heal. I opened my eyes and watched as his own seemed shocked, as if he remembered something he couldn’t before. Idly, my brain took note of his stale, gunpowder scent.  _ He doesn’t smell like a second gender. _ I licked my lips and opened my mouth again, his eyes refocusing on me.

“You,” I began, choking out the word, “you  _ saved me  _ eight years ago. You killed my father, Arnold Rockwell, the weapons dealer.” I gave him a shaky smile, his eyes dropping down to my mouth in confusion, as if he didn’t know what I was trying to do.  _ “Thank you.”  _

He flinched back, eyeing me with wary eyes before he let me go, slowly bringing his hand back to his body as my own dropped to the floor. I coughed, gulping in air and rubbing at my bruising throat. He moved back to stand near the open doorway leading into the main living room with the door to the front yard. His eyes were shifting between blue and gold as his thoughts ran amok. While he didn’t smell like anything other than gunpowder, I could tell the Alpha was scared; this was an unknown situation that he didn’t know how to deal with. I would have to be calm and speak slowly; gently. 

“When I was thirteen,” I began once again, looking up at him from the floor, “you came into my house after I was supposed to be in bed. But I didn’t clean the floors correctly, and Father beat me. My blood covered the floors and he made me stay up to clean them again. He was in the other room, drunk. Then he started yelling.” The rapt man watched me, his mixed colored eyes conveying his fascination over my story. I licked my dry lips and took in another breath. “I was scared he was going to hurt me, again, but I knew if I didn’t go to him, the beating would be worse. I walked to the doorway and watched as you held a gun up to my father’s head. You shot him, and he fell back. Then, you noticed me, and you looked...confused. As if you didn’t know I would be there; as if you didn’t know he had a daughter.

“You had put the gun down, but I reached out for your arm, and you allowed your arm to move. I placed your arm high enough so that the gun was pressed into my forehead, and then I closed my eyes.” It was silent, the four-o’clock sun shining through the window and landing on his chest, under his neck. “I thought you were going to kill me -- I had seen you, after all. And I  _ desperately  _ wanted you to do it. I was in so much pain, and I just wanted to die.” I paused. “But you didn’t. After a few seconds, you dropped your arm and, when I opened my eyes, you were gone and the window was open.” He was frowning, and his face was pinched with pain. “Are you here to finally finish the job?” His now fully golden eyes were clouded with confusion. He shook his head and turned, rushing to the front door, flinging it open and running out. 

_ Damn _ . I sat on the floor for another thirty minutes, breathing heavily as I rubbed at my throat. The inward damage would heal quickly, but the bruising always lasted for a few days. It was one of the few reasons Father didn’t realize I had regeneration powers. When I was calmer than before, I stood on shaky legs and left the house, rushing towards the U-Haul and climbing into the driver’s seat.  _ Locking it wouldn’t stop the man from killing me, but it would slow him down. Obviously, he didn’t remember me. But why? Why did he look confused, and why did he look so young? He hasn't aged a day since eight years ago _ . My mind was running on overdrive when it clicked.  _ Maybe he was held captive? Or the people he works for have figured out the Fountain of Youth location?  _ I reached to the passenger seat and grabbed my laptop, combing through ideas of who the man could be. 

I hacked through government servers, seeing if they had information on the man, when I found stray notes of a group called SHIELD. I didn’t know who they were, and it took me over three hours to figure out their server name and ten minutes to hack into it.  _ (After I ran away from the foster house at sixteen, I had found shelter in hacking into databases. I got rid of the ‘MISSING’ file on me six months after I ran, and it hasn’t popped up since.)  _ They had files listed with weird names, and I went through each one until I found HYDRA.

This file contained numerous bugs designed to identify, track, and destroy hackers. 

Tony Stark made them.

It took me ten minutes to block their signals and block them with walls of my own creation. Unfortunately, I only had five minutes to gather what I needed before they would break through and alert Stark. I ran my eyes over the file of HYDRA, finding the name Winter Soldier closer to the middle of the list. It seemed that the man was an Alpha assassin, one that was actively being looked for by the Avengers and was Captain America’s best friend from the 1940s. They had notes stating he was being brainwashed by HYDRA, his memory had been wiped multiple times, and he was put in a frozen chamber for decades at a time -- only coming out to complete missions. But with SHIELD and HYDRA’s “downfall” _ three months ago _ , he was on the run and was being chased by both sides. Pursing my lips, I shut down the file and erased all evidence of me being there. I waited for thirty minutes afterwards, checking my firewalls and making sure I hadn’t been tracked. Fortunately, I wasn’t, but I could never be too careful. 

To calm down my racing mind, I went back into the house and began making the list for the remaining half of the Second Week and the beginning half of the Third Week. When it was three in the morning, I finally fell asleep and awoke a few hours later with a hand covering my mouth. I gasped, my eyes snapping open and landing on the familiar face of the Winter Soldier. His face was guarded once again, but his gold eyes still had that wild, broken look and he was breathing my scent in deeply, as if to calm himself. 

**“Sing that song, again,”** he muttered under his breath. My eyebrows furrowed as my mind went blank, trying to remember what he was talking about.  **“In the kitchen. That song. Sing, again.”** It clicked in my head and I nodded, watching as he slowly removed his hand. 

One of my powers involved the usage of songs, another being talking to animals. Animals tended to relax under the influence of my songs and become closer to me -- though I had never truly had a pet of my own, due to Father killing the puppies and kittens I brought home, and Ruth’s house only fitting a few birds that liked her better than me. Humans, on the other hand, became calm; their rumbling thoughts silenced and, depending on the song I sang, could become filled with that emotion. If the Winter Soldier was listening to my song, then he felt at peace; he felt as if everything was alright with the world, and it helped him.

With a lick of my dry lips and a clearing of my throat, I began,  _ “Leaves from the vine, falling so slow, like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam.”  _ His taut facial features softened, and his eyes filled with tears, changing to a sad blue.  _ “Little Soldier Boy, comes marching home. Brave Soldier Boy, comes marching home.”  _ Suddenly, he was whimpering and dropping himself onto the bed, resting his head on my left shoulder as his metal hand clutched my right bicep with grueling strength. It was as if he were anchoring himself to me in an effort to ground his mind.  _ “Little Soldier Boy, thought he could soar. Brave Soldier Boy, died in their war.” _ I repeated the song, gently carding my right hand through his greasy hair as he gripped my arm tighter.

He was slowly calming beside me and his eyes closed. Then, he was fast asleep. 

~+~+~+~+~++~+~

He was asleep for a few hours, whimpering when I stopped carding my tired hand through his hair. I continued to hum the song, his body relaxed and steady beside me, and any nightmares he would have had were chased away. When it seemed like he was deep asleep, I removed his hand from my shoulder. It was difficult, and he growled under his breath when I finally removed it. It sent a shiver down my spine, a shiver only an Alpha could give an Omega, and I sniffed a bit, smelling only the gunpowder. Once I was out of the bedroom, I let out a sigh of relief.

As I had yet to order kitchen appliances, I began heating up the leftover pizza I ordered the previous day for lunch in the microwave, allowing myself to wonder about the man in my bedroom. _ The gold eyes mean he’s an Alpha. It would make sense that he would be on rut pills and scent blockers. The Winter Soldier was HYDRA’s assassin, after all. It would not be good if he went into a rut in the middle of the mission, and scent blockers were effective in hiding his trail from police.  _ But it  _ had  _ been three months since HYDRA fell, so it was odd that he was still scentless.  _ The pills I used to take had to be taken every month, but those were the  _ **_cheapest_ ** _ on the market. _ I took out the three slices of pizza and placed them on the counter, my body moving automatically as I thought. _ Doc had insisted on it after I moved into Ruth’s. I had been so scared to go into another heat, so the Doc had gotten me the blockers to make me docile. But after I was slowly losing my anxiety over my scent, I had dropped the blockers. Of course, Betas and Alphas still leered at me, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before.  _ I sighed, grabbing a kettle, filling it with water, and putting it on the old stove that could only hold a flame for five minutes.  _ But after I moved here, I decided not to keep up with my heat pills. But there are pills that block it for up to six months for Omegas. Alphas have shots they can take that last up to a year -- they always got the best working crap. HYDRA had money, though. He’s probably drugged up to the wazoo.  _

“I’ll have to start up the heat pills then,” I muttered to myself, a grimace overcoming my face. Alphas had ruts once every two months, Betas and Gammas had heats and ruts once a year, but Omegas had one heat  _ every month _ . The heat was situated around our period, and mine lasted five days, ending on the day I began my period, as that was when Omegas were most fertile. My heat could set him off.  _ It’s best that I’m on those pills. I don’t want a rabid Winter Soldier humping my ass.  _

_ Wait, could  _ **_that_ ** _ have been why he was breathing so heavily? _ I paused in my movements, thinking it over.  _ My heat ended three days ago, maybe that’s why he found his way to my house? He could have been camping in the woods and smelt me through the windows I opened for air. _ I grimaced again at the memory, taking the screaming kettle off of the stove and pouring it into a plastic cup I had for tea.  _ That wasn’t the best idea at the time. It could have been pure chance that he recognized me -- somewhat -- and became curious. I can still pick up the scent of heat in my room, so maybe that was why he was breathing so heavily? Alphas had sensitive noses.  _ I shook my head and turned around with the paper plates in my hand. I jumped in slight shock -- he stood in the doorframe to the dining room, watching me with a stoic face. 

“Good morning, honey,” I greeted happily with a smile on my face. “I heated up breakfast for us.” He didn’t say anything, watching as I placed the plates on the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. “It’s pizza, though. Not traditional in the least, but it’ll do on an empty stomach.” He walked forward, slowly, and stood opposite to me, grabbing the pizza and biting into it. “You cleaned up a bit.” He didn’t look at me, but I could tell he was paying attention.

And he  _ had  _ cleaned up. His mask was no longer obscuring his face, and his blue eyes were free of the black makeup-like paint. He wasn’t wearing the tactical vest but a familiar looking sweatshirt. Raising an eyebrow, I raked my eyes over his figure. I had worn that giant hoodie yesterday, along with those sweatpants --  _ what the hell? Those were in the laundry hamper! _ I was surprised that he was wearing my dirty clothes, but more surprised to see that they fit him perfectly -- the hoodie that was practically a dress on me fitting his muscles perfectly, and the sweatpants I always rolled up were snug against his thighs and calves. The Omega inside me purred at the obvious indentations of his muscles, and it made me inwardly sigh and push those observations away. The Winter Soldier was finished with his breakfast when I came out of my thoughts, staring longingly down at his plate. My stomach rolled with nerves and I realized I couldn’t eat another bite without puking. 

“Here, hun,” I muttered, pushing the half-eaten slice of pizza over to him. His eyes finally looked up at me and I gave him a small smile. “Have at it.” He didn’t move, watching me warily for a minute until I moved my eyes towards the tea I had to accompany my breakfast. Like a flash, his hand was pulling my plate towards him and he was eating, no longer looking at me as I sipped at my tea. I grabbed the Week 2-to-3 list from the pile of papers on the island. Most of the papers contained blueprints and notes I wrote down regarding random thoughts I had throughout the day. As I read over it, I made small marks on the side of things I wanted to get done with.

“What...is that?” He asked gruffly, catching my attention. When I looked up at the man, he was eyeing the piece of paper in my hands, pizza long gone. I gave him a gentle smile.

“This is my Week 2-to-3 list,” I said idly. It was one of many I would be making -- a list made for each week that would be taken down once the ten things on it were complete. Some of them would be menial things -- clean the floors, wipe down the counters, clean the windows -- and others would be bigger projects -- patch in the giant hold on the floor, retile the counter, buy and put-in new windows. This list, however, consisted of mostly “big” projects -- buy kitchen appliances, re-tile the kitchen, knock down/fix broken walls, and buy an AC for the house. The tiles were already in the bed of my truck, and I had broken down a few walls to resituate them, but I had much left to do. He looked up at me with confused eyes but a stoic face. 

“List?” He asked quietly, watching me as I reached over to grab the first list. The list uncovered many photos I had yet to frame. I planned on doing it when I reached the decoration part of the fixer-upper, but I needed the photos out when I got bad mood swings -- like after the installation men left with sneers. He eyed the pictures for a second before I placed the Week 1 list in front of him, but I grabbed the pictures anyway, placing three in front of him.

“Yes. My mother, Lily Gaia Claremont-Rockwell, was a well-off singer until she committed suicide,” I began, his assessing yet impassive eyes watching me. “That’s her, right there. That’s me next to her. This was taken a week before she died.” There was a small, black and white photo of my mother and I, her face showing a forced smile while I beamed with happiness and a missing tooth. Next to it was a photo of Ruth and me, and then one of Luna, Nora, Ruth, and myself. He was tense in front of me, seeming nervous.

“I did not...kill mother?” I looked up at him from the pictures with a soft smile, shaking my head. His words sounded sad -- worried, even. I maintained eye-contact with him as I began the explanation, his eyes showing an inquisitive interest that I hadn’t expected.

“My father was abusive towards my mother while I was growing up. He wanted more children -- specifically an Alpha Male that he could parade around -- but she didn’t want to give him more children he would most likely hurt. They had an argument when we got home that day, and she couldn’t take it anymore. A week later, she committed suicide.” I licked my lips. “My father was angry -- livid, furious, bat-shit crazy -- and began to abuse me since she wasn’t there. My mother told me not to tell him about my powers, but I thought if I told him about  _ one  _ of them, he wouldn’t hurt me anymore.” The man was silent, regarding me with intense eyes, and I looked down at the pictures. “I am rather  _ inventive _ ; blueprints for things just pop into my mind. He blew through the money my mother made with drinking, gambling, and women, but the weapon industry was booming. He had me build weapons -- guns, bombs, whatever -- and he would sell them for millions. When I didn’t build it like he wanted, he beat me. When I didn’t finish the chores, he beat me. If I didn’t complete both before dinner, he beat me.” I went silent, pursing my lips as I got lost in my thoughts. He stood still, seemingly unperturbed about my silence. Taking a deep breath, I shook the thoughts away. “Sorry. You asked about the  _ list  _ thing. 

“I ran away at sixteen, found my way to this lady, here: Ruth. She took care of me for four years until she died of a heart attack. Luna and Nora were close friends with her -- went to the same church -- and took me under their wing when they realized I was mentally unstable.” I tightened my fingers around the handle and side of my mug of tea. “My father made billions of dollars off of my weapons, and it all went to me -- my mom insisted that I was his beneficiary, and he never had time to change his will to say anything different after she died -- so I spent a very small portion on this farmhouse two months ago on the One Year Anniversary of Ruth’s death. After I sold her house, I packed all my shit up, and came here. It was really crappy and a lot of things needed to be fixed. I was...overwhelmed. I didn’t know where to start, and the blueprints in my mind kept coming nonstop. So I made lists.” I pointed to the first one, smudges of dirt and ink on the slightly crumpled paper. “I crossed things off when I was done, and I leave it out ‘cause it makes me feel like I accomplished something.” I pointed to the incomplete list. “As you can see, this list mostly has buying things on it, but I have to tile the kitchen and break down some of the walls.” I looked at the silent and contemplative man.

“Can…,” he trailed off, his facial expressions struggling between confused and annoyed. His eyes moved over the list frantically, as if trying to remember something. “Can...I stay? Help?” He seemed satisfied with his words and looked up at me, his eyes the calm sky-blue. I grinned, nodding.

“Of course, honey. As long as you need.” He nodded, his shoulders dropping in relief. “I have a lot of guest rooms, but they don’t have beds yet. I can order them today with everything else. You can sleep in my bed tonight, and I’ll take the U-Haul. It can be quite comfortable if you know the correct angle to sleep in.” He blinked, his lips turning into a pout and his eyes narrowing at me with suspicion, turning gold when a thought crossed his mind.

**“No. You leave.”** I raised my eyebrows in surprise and pursed my lips.  **“Stay room. With me.”**

“I would never leave you like that, sweetheart.” He didn’t look convinced and I smiled, shaking my head with amusement. “Alright. We can  _ share  _ the bed.” He nodded, pleased, and I held out my hand. “I never introduced myself. My name is Lunalily. You can call me Luna, Lily, or Lunalily, if you’d like.” He jerked his head in a stiff nod. “Is there a name you would like me to call you?” He tensed, an unsure look on his face as he swallowed harshly, gold eyes frantically moving around as if to think of a name.

**“Winter.”**


	2. Granny Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I guess it really does hurt falling from Heaven."

“That’s my  _ favorite  _ season! My birthday’s in December, you know.” He just watched me as I gave him a wide grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Winter. I’m going to get dressed properly and brush my teeth, then we can begin working.” He nodded and I began walking away, feeling him behind me. Winter followed me up the stairs and to my room, like a lost puppy. I gave him new clothes to wear, but he shook his head, an almost feral look on his face as he clenched the sweatshirt in his fists. I nodded and took them to the bathroom, closing the door so he couldn’t come in as I changed and brushed my teeth. When I opened it, he was pacing in front of the door, eyes zeroing in on me when I walked out. He stayed still as I threw my clothes in the hamper next to my bedroom door, and followed me out of the room once I began walking down the hall. 

As I had the tiles in the truck, I decided we would do the re-tiling first. Winter followed me outside and to the truck, growling at me when I picked up one of the boxes full of tiles. I jumped, turning to the feral looking man who was swooping towards me. He yanked the box out of my hands and gold eyes glared at me -- _ they had  _ **_just_ ** _ turned blue, too! Great going, Luna. _

**“No lift. I lift.”** Then, he turned to the other boxes, pulling them forward with his metal hand and picking four boxes stacked high. I gaped in surprise at the man, watching as he turned on his heels and walked into the house.  **“Come.”** I blinked, scoffing in amusement as I shook my head with incredulous amusement.  _ Definitely an Alpha _ . 

The rest of the day consisted of me teaching him how to tile, buying multiple items for the house, and breaking down walls. After he got the hang of it, he gave me a small square of space to tile so that I couldn’t help. Growing up, I learned a lot about Alphas and how they acted because they could,  _ potentially _ , hurt me. I wasn’t too sure why Winter was acting like this, though I had a feeling it was more in regards to my Omega status than him feeling in-debted to me as I allowed him to stay in my house. After my allotted square was done, I grabbed my laptop and wifi modem from the U-Haul and set it up in the house. I didn’t tell Winter I was leaving the house, though, as I was too busy lost in my head, and he growled when I re-entered the kitchen. I jumped, looking at the man with wide-eyes.

**“No leave without Winter,”** he growled at me, standing tall and hands on his hips as he glared at me.  **“Tell Winter.”** His eyes flashed the dangerous gold and I nodded vigorously, trying not to release my fearful Omega scent. He didn’t seem to notice the scent change -- or just didn’t care -- and turned back to the counters with blue eyes. I went over to a corner of the kitchen where the electrical plugs were, plugged in the modem and laptop, and grabbed the papers from the island. After Winter was finished with the long, L-Shaped counter, he would be doing the island Sitting back down, I waited for everything to be booted up before I began buying. 

I bought top of the line kitchen appliances, laundry machines, AC units, windows, and bedroom items from the same company so that they would be delivered around the same time. Winter came over a few times, picking out what he liked for his room with annoyed grunts before he went back to tiling the island. After he finished, we began breaking down the walls and re-plastering them. Winter insisted on getting wall insulation that would soundproof rooms, so I had to take him out to mom-and-pop shops to buy what he wanted. By evening, we were done with half of the walls -- only because I insisted on helping, singing so that he couldn’t protest -- and ordered another pizza for dinner. I was going to get real tired of pizza pretty soon.

The rest of the week consisted of finishing the walls and doing random things. My bedroom was the biggest one, now, and had a walk-in closet (which I am fully intending on using) and a bathroom connected to it. Winter’s bedroom was painted a pale blue and the previously broken and tiny window was removed so there could be a bigger one. I waited for the men to drop off the items before I began bringing in items from the U-Haul. Winter had insisted on watching the men to make sure they were installing appliances correctly while I snuck out. 

The cool February draft was heaven against my hot skin as I carried in boxes of my items, Winter glaring at me when he realized what I was doing. But I just smiled and set things down in the empty living room. Most of the boxes I had were filled with Ruth and John’s books and personal items I couldn’t get rid of -- her jewelry, his watches, their books and pictures. When the men were gone -- a generous cash tip in their hands -- I had Winter half-drag the piano inside for the living room  _ (literally the only furniture item I had) _ . He refused to talk to and look at me while he did so until I apologized for going against his “orders.” 

Before we moved Winter’s bed in, I dusted the bedroom while he roamed through the woods. I assumed he had some things left at his original campsite that he needed to grab, and by six, he was back and sitting at the dinner table, waiting for dinner. It was amusing, though, because even though his room was the closest to mine and had a bed, he still slept in my room due to mysteriously missing bedsheets.  _ (He had taken to blocking my body from the doorway to the hall, as if to hide me from intruders should they come through the door. It was adorable when I realized he was doing it, and even more adorable when he made me sing him lullabies repeatedly so that he could fall asleep.) _

Week 3-to-4 was spent on the bathrooms and other rooms. Due to my obsessive need for a library, we brought down another wall on the other side of the mansion-like house for a giant area. We had gone into town to buy the tile, paint, sink, and shower-heads for the bathrooms, along with giant boxes of new bathtubs that could fit Winter’s giant form. While he tiled and installed, I painted and hung up bars for the towels. After we finished with the bathrooms, I sent Winter into town  _ (all by himself) _ to buy wood for the bookcases -- I had shown him what I wanted through pictures: an old, vintage looking bookcase that was dark brown and looked like it could be in an actual Victorian house -- and he came back with nothing but a smug smile.

“Oak brothers and their sons in the wood shop,” he began smugly, handing me the STARKPhone I lent him along with my debit card, “said they could build a bookcase with a cupboard under. Asked for rush -- two weeks and five bookcases for fifteen thousand dollars. Said yes. Closed down to start and finish.” I gasped, reaching forward to grasp onto his flesh arm with a gentle grip. 

“ _ Really _ ?” He nodded smugly, his eyes landing on my wide and beaming grin. I squealed and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Awesome! Thank you so much, Winter! I’m so excited!” He was tense under my hold, but I didn’t mind and squeezed his waist with my arms. After a few seconds, he reciprocated the hug and took in a deep breath of my scent, nuzzling his chin into the hair on the left side of my head. I purred happily, breathing in his gunpowder scent as I hugged him much longer than the standard twenty-second rule. 

I began to wonder, again, how long his scent blockers were going to last, but I banished the thought. I didn’t want to set him off unintentionally by asking about anything HYDRA-related. I had begun my heat pills a few days after he arrived, so I wasn’t worried about myself -- just him. And while Winter had some nightmares (but many flashbacks) about HYDRA, he would never tell me anything about them. He would write everything he could down in the journals I got him  _ (sometimes during the middle of a conversation we were having, or in the middle of working on something) _ before he forgot, and then he would demand either a lullaby or brushing his hair  _ (sometimes both) _ for his troubles. I was worried about him, but he was improving -- he began cooking for us  _ (a skill he seemed to have muscle memory of) _ , he began reading  _ (many of my books were either laying on my dresser or in boxes)  _ when he was bored so that when he spoke his words were more articulate and full, and he began running every morning and evening, exercising outside whenever he could so that he could think or calm himself down from a trying day. 

Unfortunately, he had so many anxiety and panic attacks that I felt more protective over him than he did of me, sometimes. I always held his hand if we went into town so that I knew he was near me, and I tended to glare at the young men and women that looked at us weirdly. Winter did it too, but I was the one who tended to growl and tug him closer to me, which made him grow the dopiest smile and purr happily beside me. It was cute, but I mostly ignored it.

Winter stiffened in the hug, his purring ceasing and his head snapping up. I looked up with him, taking in his defensive expression. He usually got like this when he heard someone nearing the house -- his ears picked up cars ten minutes before they arrived at our location -- so I wondered idly if it was someone dropping something off. 

**“Inside. Now.”** His golden eyes didn’t look at me, firmly trained on the blue sky as he pushed me towards the house. My heart began to pound and I slowly backed up, looking at the sky with him.  _ He’s never done this before. Is something coming? Has he been found? _ He pulled out a gun he kept on him at all times and watched the sky. I finally made it to the steps, climbing up the six concrete blocks and standing in the doorway. He glanced at me with an unamused look.  **“Inside.”** I stepped back once, but kept the door open so that I could watch.

“I  _ am  _ inside,” I countered, my voice firm as I turned to the sky. “What’s going on? What do you hear?” He pursed his lips and looked back up at the sky.

**“Screaming men. Close.”** I nodded, gripping the door frame with white knuckles. I licked my lips, feeling a sheen of anxiety sweat appear at my armpits and hands. 

“Do...Do we need to leave?” He heard the nervousness in my voice, and smelt my anxiety, as much as I tried to hide it. Winter turned to me, his Alpha aching to move forward and comfort the distressed Omega, but he stayed rooted to the spot. “Is it...bad men?” He blinked at me, but shook his head and snapped his eyes back up to the sky. 

I could hear the screaming, now, making me look up at the sky, too. I covered my mouth with a gasp as I saw two bodies flying through the air towards us. They weren’t flying with purpose, per se, but looked as if they were falling.  _ Maybe thrown? Though I don’t know who could do that. _ They were getting closer, and I could hear voices clearer.

“This is all your fault, you fucking do-gooder!” A deep voice yelled, sounding angry and slightly terrified. “That explosion was all your fault!” 

“I tried to  _ help  _ you against the Juggernaut! I didn’t see anyone else doing it!” The other man yelled back, screaming. “At least you’ll survive the landing! What about me?” They were getting closer, but continued yelling at each other. 

Winter growled loudly, digging his heels into the tall grass before he vaulted off of the ground in a high jump. I gasped, my fists clenching as I watched Winter grab onto the second man. The man cried out in surprise when Winter grabbed onto him, hauling him to the ground. He laid on the ground, winded, and Winter stood above him with a foot on his chest to hold him down as his eyes trailed after the first man. 

“Dad?” The other man asked before he landed harshly onto the ground, creating a crater of flying brown dirt and dark green grass. “Fuck, shit, ass-butt, dick!” He cried out crudely as he skidded through the patch of grass. Finally, he stopped with a groan, and went silent. I began walking down the steps in a rush, when Winter snarled at me.

**“No. Stay inside, Omega,”** he snarled, his eyes completely gold and on-edge. My Omega whined, wanting to freeze and follow the Alpha’s orders, but I refused. Adrenaline pumping, I continued down the steps and rushed towards the fallen man. Winter nashed his teeth and growled a,  **“stay down or I’ll kill you,”** at the other man before his thundering footsteps were after me. 

I stood above the small crater the man was situated in, assessing his injuries with my eyes before I did anything. He wore a red and black typical vigilante suit with two swords criss-crossed over his back and guns strapped to a belt. His legs were in weird angles, as were his arms, and if I had to guess, he would have many broken ribs and probably neck or spine. His suit was torn in some places and there was blood all over him. He should have been dead, but he was still breathing. That was the last note I took mentally before I felt Winter come up behind me and grab onto my shoulder with a harsh grip. My Omega immediately let out a whimper as I flinched back harshly, my thoughts immediately going back to my father. Winter froze, his body tensing, and I turned to look at him with guilt. His blue eyes shone with hurt, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and flashes of guilt, anger, and hurt ran over his face. Finally, he pursed his lips, let go of my shoulder, and forced a stoic expression on his face. Tears welled up in my eyes and a frown tugged at my lips. 

“I-I’m sorry, Winter,” I mumbled, grabbing onto his flesh hand. It laid limp in my hands, and I could tell he was trying to block me out. I brought his hand up to my lips and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. With my fingers around his wrist, I felt his heart start to race and my face grew red in a blush. Nuzzling my cheek against his palm, I took in a deep breath of his gunpowder scent before I let it go and looked up at him. He didn’t have the impassive look on his face anymore, but the base of his throat was red and a look I couldn’t identify was in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Winter. It’s...It’s an automatic thing. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” He nodded but the look didn’t change. I licked my lips and opened my mouth to say something when the man behind me groaned in pain. 

I jumped and turned around, looking down at the suit-wearing male. He didn’t look to be lucid, but I could hear distinct pops of bones going back into place, his arms and legs still mangled. With little persuasion from the man, I walked over to his body to look at his wounds better. The blood was still soaking his clothes, but his cuts were gone -- just scars covering bumpy skin.  _ Did he have the regeneration/healing factor power like me? _ The thought made my heart pound and my eyes run over his wounds with wonder.  _ I never met another person with powers similar to mine. _ Winter hummed in a low warning tone, but turned around anyway and walked towards the man on the ground.  _ (To be quite frank, I was surprised he was still there.) _ I placed a gentle hand on the man’s suit-covered cheek, putting gentle pressure on his cheek.

“Hello,” I began gently, “can you hear me, hun?” He groaned in response, and his head moved into my hand with an unconsciously made nuzzling gesture. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m going to take you into the house, okay? I’ll take care of you until you’re better, again.” He groaned in response and I crouched down, putting my hands under his armpits and hauling him up. He coughed wetly -- his body most likely healing the internal bleeding before focusing on his broken bones -- and whined in pain as I hugged his chest close to my own, pulling him with me towards the house. “I guess it really _does_ hurt when you fall from Heaven.” The man chuckled next to my ear, his voice deep yet sounding weak.

“Funny,” he muttered, his head lolling forward onto my shoulder. I chuckled and continued walking backwards up the steps and into the house, Winter following with a red-suited man thrown over his shoulder. The cool air would have helped me against sweating, but the sweatshirt I was wearing was putting a damper on the coolness.

“You’re healing pretty fast. I’m surprised you didn’t die on impact.” He hummed in affirmation against my upper back, grimacing when his feet hit the stairs. “Shit, sorry, hun. I’m taking you to the closest bathroom. I don’t have a couch or anything, yet, so you’re gonna have to heal in the bathtub. Maybe you can take a bath, cause you kinda stink, too. I can get you and your friend some clean clothes -- I got many sweatshirts and sweatpants, with hoods if it helps -- and Winter was going to cook pasta for dinner.” Winter gave me an unimpressed look as he trudged up the stairs while watching me walk up them backwards. “Oh, come on, Winter! They’re  _ hurt _ ! Poor things.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes as I patted the unknown man’s back. 

“Thanks,” the man in my arms muttered, sounding sleepy. I began humming as I rubbed the man’s back, finally making it to the second floor. Dragging him along, I walked into the open bathroom, the white tub big enough to hold the man in my arms. Winter set the other man on the white marble counter, the groaning man leaning his head back against the mirror as he held his bleeding side. Winter took the man out of my arms and placed him in the tub, not as gentle as I would have hoped, but not as harsh as he most likely wanted to. 

“I got him,” Winter muttered to me, turning on the tub water and pulling the plug so that it came out of the removable shower head. “You take care of the other man.” I nodded and went to the sink, pulling out one of the many first aid kits Winter put together after I got a cut.  _ (At the time, he watched the cut sew itself back up with interested eyes, but he still insisted on making the first aid kits just in case my power didn’t work. I didn’t stop him.) _ Carrying the medium-sized kit in my right hand, I turned to the bleeding man. 

“Can you walk, honey?” Winter growled, annoyed that I was using the nicknames, but I rolled my eyes. “Oh, hush, Winter. I did the  _ same  _ to you.” His growl quieted and I turned back to the maroon-suited man. He grunted and nodded, but his eyes weren’t on me. They seemed to be covered by a red cloth, and I wondered if he could see through it. “Alright, let’s move you and get your wounds checked out.” He nodded and lifted up his good arm. I wrapped my right arm around his waist, his arm around the back of my neck, and I slowly walked with him to the bedroom across the hall with a bathroom of its own. 

Winter’s room was taken care of, I ordered more beds so that we could set up at least three guest rooms. They only had beds in them, of course, but when I took the time to get everything settled, I would fix them up nice so Luna and Nora could visit. 

I sat him down on the edge of the guest bed as I raced into the connected bathroom to grab towels. Laying four on top of each other in the middle of the bed, I helped the man move into a comfortable, lying down position. He rattled off to me that he didn’t have internal bleeding or broken bones, just this one scratch from a sword-wielding maniac  _ (“not the idiot in the other room,” he assured me) _ and some burns on his torso and back. Taking in a breath, I could smell the Alpha rolling off of him in waves -- my Omega rolling inside me with giddiness -- along with the beginning of a panic attack. I began humming as I washed his wounds.

_ “The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping,” _ I sang gently, rubbing antibacterial medicine against his wound.  _ “I dreamt I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head, and I cried.” _ He cocked his head, confusion filling the air. I brought my power forward, as I grabbed the gauze and medical tape. _ “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” _ His body suddenly fell limp, though his breathing was regular, so I knew he was falling to the will of my powers. Grabbing the salve for burns, I moved around the side of the bed to his burnt torso.  _ “I’ll always love you, and make you happy. And nothing else could come between. But if you leave me to love another, you’ll have shattered all of my dreams.” _ He sighed contentedly, his breathing evening out and his eyes most likely drooping into sleep. I slowly moved him to lay on his stomach (still on the towels) so I could see his back.  _ “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”  _ I began rubbing the salve on the burns littering his back, repeating the song until I was done. I watched with idle wonder as some of the burns became smaller, a light green glow covering his body. 

_ That hasn’t happened, before. Usually, they just relax under my powers. Maybe fall asleep. _ I patted the back of his head, his breathing showing his sleeping state. I hummed to myself and moved towards the bathroom, turning on the shower for him.  _ After I get the suit off of his chest, I can wrap them in the waterproof material so he can shower, _ I told myself as I walked back into the bedroom. Waking him gently, I explained to him that he needed to shower first before he could rest, and he nodded. I wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him into the bathroom, letting him lean against the counter.

“Alright, sweetie, I need to wrap your wounds in this so they don’t get wet.” He shook his head, reaching out to grab the wrapping from me. 

“I can do it,” he muttered sleepily, his voice deep and rumbling like Winter’s. I blinked in surprise.  _ This was the first time he spoke to me.  _

“Okay. Can you make it into the shower without me?” He nodded. “Great. I’ll go ahead and grab some clothes for you and leave them on the bed. When you’re ready, come downstairs. I’ll make sure Winter doesn’t poison the food.” He cracked a small smile but said nothing else as I left the bathroom, closing the door behind me. 

An annoyed and scowling Winter met me in the hallway, soaked from head-to-toe in water and bubbles. There was obnoxiously loud singing coming from the bathroom behind him, and I giggled at Winter’s face. He just glared at me with a twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes. 

“Next time,” he began, pointing his thumb behind him at the door, “you get the crazy one.  _ I  _ get the quiet one.” 

~+~+~+~+~+~+~++~

Wade --  _ Deadpool _ , he would correct -- was adamant about getting his suit back throughout dinner. Matthew --  _ Daredevil _ , Wade would correct -- was adamant about eating food and resting,  _ quietly _ . It was a tense atmosphere between the three Alphas, and each glared at each other with gold eyes  _ (I assumed with Wade, considering he had sunglasses and a bandanna on to hide what the hoodie couldn’t) _ . I found both of them rather fascinating: though Matthew’s eyes were a milky grey because of blindness, they still turned gold when his Alpha was upset; and Wade was funnier than anyone I had ever met, but had severe body dysmorphia issues. I had to explain very delicately that Wade’s suit (and Matthew’s) was disgusting and ripped in many places  _ (and by delicately, I mean very blunt) _ , and that I would be sewing them after dinner and washing them by hand to get the stains out. 

Wade wasn’t very happy about that, so I assured him that he could have it back by tomorrow afternoon, and that in the meantime, he could rest up.  _ (“Like a tiny vacation. Who doesn’t like those?” I told him with a small grin.) _ He had his arms crossed, and I could smell that he was slowly getting angry about not having his suit. Winter and Matthew were both tense, Winter eyeing Wade with hawk-like eyes and Matthew clenching his jaw as he waited for something to happen. Taking a deep breath, I released my Omega scent and watched as their bodies automatically relaxed and their Alphas moved back to let their counterparts lead.

“Wade, I understand you’re upset,” I began gently, setting my fork down next to my half-full plate of pasta, “and I understand you are tense about being here. You don’t know Winter or myself, so it is understandable you would be wary about our intentions.” The table was silent, and all of their eyes  _ (or attention)  _ was on me. “Matthew and yourself are obviously very skilled Alphas, though, so I have no doubt that you would be able to subdue us should my words prove to be lies.” Winter was tense beside me, a low growl falling from his lips. Reaching over, I placed a hand on his metal one to calm him, though I kept my eyes on Wade. “All I want to do is help you out. Matthew is obviously exhausted, and I am sure you are as well. If it makes you more comfortable, you guys can share a room with a connected bathroom. And you can have your weapons back, which-,” I looked at Winter with a raised eyebrow, “-you  _ weren’t supposed  _ to have taken, Winter.” He scoffed, his metal hand gripping tightly onto my hand.

“My territory, my rules,” he grumbled, a teasing smirk on his face. I raised my own eyebrows in response, scoffing and shaking my head.

“Excuse you,  _ I  _ bought this place, it is  _ my  _ territory, you territory stealer.” He grinned at me, showing off his sharp canines and I rolled my eyes, turning back to Wade and Matt sitting across from us. They were both calm and looking down at their dinner with tilted heads, but were still playing with their food. I sighed, trying to think of what to say. “Look, guys, I don’t expect you to trust us; hell, Winter doesn’t trust you  _ either _ , and I can promise you right now, he’s either going to be awake all night in my room instead of his own because he’s too worried you may try to kill me, or he’ll stalk the hallways all night with that broody Alpha look you Alphas seem to do so well. But Omegas are  _ different  _ from Alphas.” That caught their attention, again. “My Omega will keep me up all night with worry if you leave tonight. Do you know  _ why _ ?” Wade and Winter were silent, but Matthew had his head cocked to the side as he thought.

“Maternal instincts,” Matthew finally stated with certainty. I nodded, glancing at him.

“Yes. I do not view you as my  _ children _ , but you ended up hurt in my territory. I watched as you landed quite harshly into the ground, and I got scared with the thought that you, Wade, were dead. At the moment, my Omega is still not confident that you are safe and healed. If you leave before she is sure, she will get upset and I will cry for weeks. You obviously do not know how annoying that can be.” I pointed at an impassive-faced Winter. “This one left for thirty minutes --  _ thirty minutes _ just to pick up  _ pizza _ , and my Omega had me cooped up in his room where his scent was most prominent so that I could cry in peace. It took me  _ days  _ to convince big softy to go back into town by himself because I kept crying all the goddamn time. So.” My eyes turned white with my Omega pushing through.  **“Do me a favor: stay here where I know you’re safe, and you can leave as you please, tomorrow. Please.”** The two men were silent as Winter tightened his grip on my hand.

“Fine,” Wade huffed out, uncrossing his arms. “But it's under loud and vocal protest.” Matthew nodded in return and I smiled brightly at the two, my Omega slinking back into the corners of my mind. 

“Oh, goodie! I wouldn’t want it  _ any  _ other way.” 

That night, Wade and Winter kept me amused through their constant bickering. Wade was being truthful about his vocal protesting, and kept complaining about the plastic chairs I had in the kitchen and living room for sitting. He complained about the colors of the walls, the amount of boxes still in the living room _ (most filled with books and others I just couldn’t bear to look at) _ , and the lacking amount of red in my wardrobe.  _ (He had gone into my room to rifle through my underwear drawer _ **_,_ ** _ but I think he had ulterior motives.) _ Winter, on the other hand, did not find him as amusing as I did. He threw insults at Wade, both of them growling and pacing around the living room while Matthew and I sat in the plastic chairs to watch. At one point, they snarled at each other about Wade going through my closet and drawers. 

“Wade,” Matthew said suddenly, interjecting into the snarling argument the other two were indulging in. Wade snarled a “ **what** ” but Matthew took it in stride. “Winter is right. You should not have gone into a lady’s room to rifle through her drawers.” I remained amused as Wade started arguing with Matthew, sewing the last hole in Wade’s suit to the best of my ability before starting on Matthew’s suit.  _ (Ruth was an avid sewer when she was alive. She had sewn many prom dresses for her daughters, and embroidered cute designs on their jeans when they wanted to be different. She took the time to teach me during breaks in school to keep me busy.) _

“Wade, hun.” The other two went silent and Wade huffed, turning slowly to me with open arms, drawing out the “ **what** ” once again. I gave the man an amused grin. “If you were looking for racy lingerie, you must have been  _ severely  _ disappointed by my granny panties and old-as-fuck bras.” Matthew snorted out a laugh as Winter cocked his head, confused. If I could see Wade’s face, I’m sure it would be bright red in a blush as he sputtered out denials. 

“What do you mean by... _ granny panties _ ?” Winter grumbled, confused. 

“What the fuck?” Wade asked, sounding confused. “You don’t know what  _ granny panties _ are?” Winter didn’t take notice of his condescending tone, merely shaking his head as he glanced at me for a definition. “They’re old people undies. You know, like the ones your grandmother wears? That is unsexy and hideous and complete  _ boner-remover _ ?” I broke out in a peal of amused laughter as Wade sputtered to explain it, Winter’s slowly growing disgusted face, and Matthew's loud and boisterous laughter. “Dude, how long have you been living with her? Why have you  _ not  _ gone through her drawers, already? Or do you jack-off to dudes?” 

“That does not concern you,” Winter grumbled, crossing his arms and sitting in another white, plastic chair. His eyebrows were furrowed and he started to become broody. Wade continued ranting about how there were “sexier” underwear I could be using, and how he met a girl that never wore underwear. “Her underwear looks  _ nothing  _ like what my grandmother wore.” Wade and Matthew went silent, and I put a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing. 

“So you  _ have  _ seen her underwear!” Winter nodded once at Wade’s words, a blush going over his face at the other man’s crowing and cooing. “Maybe not  _ 1920s  _ old, but definitely early nineties. I mean, who wears high-waisted panties anymore? I’ll tell you,  _ grandmas _ !” Winter pursed his lips as Wade rambled.

“Grandmother was a proper lady,” Winter said firmly, catching their attention. “She would have never worn such showy underclothes.” Wade moved his head between Winter and me with comical movements before turning to Matthew.

“ _ Showy _ ?” Wade reiterated, astounded. I giggled at his tone, watching as Winter rolled his eyes. “And what did your grandmother wear that was so  _ proper _ ?” Matthew turned in the general direction of Winter with a raised eyebrow, looking just as curious as Wade sounded.

“A corset.” It was silent except for my giggling. Winter smirked at me and raised an eyebrow at Wade, egging him on. I rolled my eyes, sewing the last hole on Matthew’s suit.

“What the hell? Was your grandmother born in the  _ 1800s _ ?” Wade snorted pathetically as he didn’t have a comeback, crossing his arms. Winter blinked and said a distinct, “yes,” which made him gasp dramatically and removed his bulky, over-the-top sunglasses. Idly, I wondered if he realized what he did. He was adamant about hiding his features since dinner started, and refused to remove the bandana even to eat. “Who  _ are  _ you?” I went silent, turning to Winter with curious eyes of my own.  _ Did he remember who he was?  _ Winter didn’t look at me as he puffed his chest up with pride and stared Wade down.

“I am James Buchanan Barnes, a Sergeant in the Army during the Second World War.” Wade’s eyes grew dramatically wide, again, as Matthew surged forward with surprise. “I was born in 1917, so yes, my grandmother was born in the 1800s.” Wade opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. 

“You sound much younger than almost a hundred years old,” Matthew began slowly, sounding as if he didn’t believe Winter. “Lunalily said your name was Winter.” Winter nodded.

“I am younger than a hundred, yes. I was held captive by a bad organization for many years.” He was vague, but his eyes held the haunted emotions that only Wade and I could see. “I am called Winter because I didn’t know my name when I got here. But now, I like Winter.” I smiled, but raised an eyebrow when I caught a mischievous smirk come onto his face. It was the first time I had seen him smirk like that. “Doll’s underwear is much easier to take off.” 

“Oop,” I yelped a bit, jumping to stand, “that is my cue to  _ leave  _ this conversation.” Wade and Matthew roared with laughter, Winter’s deeper rumble of chuckling appearing in the undertones. “Goodnight! Don’t dream of grandmothers in their panties!” Wade stopped laughing and made a disgusted sound, whining about how “cruel” I was as I walked up the stairs laughing.

Winter slept beside me during the night, insisting on his usual song so that he could sleep. He said confidently that he could take either Alpha should they attack, but I could sense that he liked Wade and Matthew. Even though Wade annoyed him, he was funny and his presence calmed Winter (at least a tiny bit). Matthew, on the other hand, was his favorite due to the quiet and sophisticated nature. The three of them had a weird bond, and I could sense it strengthening over the hours they spent together. My wandering thoughts led me to wonder what would happen to that bond after they left before I fell asleep.


End file.
